Informant
by Anonymous Hijink
Summary: He could remember a time when he still had his family; still had his heart, whole and complete, beating strongly in his chest and laughing at something stupid his dad had done. He knows he can't have that back, that it's all so far gone that nothing and no-one can ever bring it back to him; there are days when he thinks that he might be able to be happy again, though.
1. Nights upon the Streets of Destiny

**Informant  
Chapter 1 – Nights Upon The Streets Of Destiny**

* * *

The night is dark around her as she steps from one shadow to another; she is young and bright against the dull walls of this dead part of town. He watches her stumble slightly over a crack in the pavement, catching herself in that clumsy elegant way of children; she is not his, not in blood, but he wishes she were. If she were his, he wouldn't have to feel so alone. She has a family, though, one that loves her dearly even if they aren't here for her tonight; they will be back in the morning or the evening tomorrow, just like every other time she has been alone. He has no one, not anymore, and that mostly doesn't bother him; he'd worked through the abandonment issues he had a long time ago. For this moment that they are both alone, both with nowhere else to go because there is nobody waiting for them at home, he pretends that she is his; watching her without rest until her family returns for her. They know, he thinks, that he is keeping an eye on the bright little girl; she had gotten lost deep in the worst part of this place once, he had found her easily and carried her back to the street she played on. One way or another they know he watches her; he's actually surprised he hasn't received a visit from one of her concerned family members yet.

She turns then, brown eyes focusing instantly on his figure cloaked in shadow; there is a bright smile stretching her lips up and a light in her eyes that almost makes them glow. He smiles back at her, one hand lifted in a wave that she gleefully returns; his eyes follow her as she hops and skips and runs; worried and calm and gaze straying for just a moment to the clouded skyline. There are another few hours until daybreak, until her mother will return with a smile on her face and the scent of fresh blood hidden by expensive perfume; and then he will not see her again until she is brought out to play with her sister as the sun sets again. He will make the most of these few hours, he strides out into the street; decision made at last.

Her mother, so much like the bright little girl, arrives with the light of a new day; and they part with a wave and bright smile as she darts off towards the tall woman. He watches as she is scooped up into a hug by her mother; his heart pulsing with a pain he knows isn't physical yet ached as surly as taking a punch to the face. They are talking about him, his ears can pick up the sound of the girls voice as she babbles about her new friend; he hears as her mother questions the bright little girl and sees as she tilts her head to peer back at the empty street. Looks like he'll be getting that visit from the concerned parent today after all; he vaguely wishes it won't be the mother that manages to track him down

* * *

She is happy to have a friend, somebody to play with when Nee-chan is out; but she wishes she could see him more often. She knows that he is always there, almost always anyway; usually he stands off to the side, hidden away in the shadows. There are times when she can't even see him; she thinks that, just maybe, he might be hiding in the abandoned buildings across from the cracked pavement that she plays on. Once, she hadn't even been able to feel his eyes on her, protective and kind and gentle and sad, and that had scared her more than when she hadn't known who was watching her every night she was alone.

He watched her even when she wasn't alone, she knew because she had seen his eyes sparkling and his pale skin shining in the flickering light of a street lamp across the way, in a deep shadow at the mouth of an alley she was passing with Nee-chan; he'd been gone before she could point him out to Nee-chan though. She thought that her mother had been out to find him a few months ago; when he had first showed himself to her. There had been tears in Ka-chan's clothes when she had come home that day, bruises and dried blood clinging to her skin where it was visible through the cuts in the fabric; he looked the same, when she saw him that night, his skin looking almost translucent in the pale glow of the moon, his clothes, the same ones he had worn every other time she had seen him, were bloodied and torn and dark bruises marred his body where his jeans needed mending.

She didn't see him for several weeks after Tou-san came home, didn't feel his eyes watching her; it worried her, this utter lack of her first friend. It wasn't the first time that he had disappeared from sight and sense; he had been vanishing more and more frequently since that first time Ka-chan had gone looking for him. It was beginning to make her wonder if she had done something to upset him. When she _did_ see him after Tou-san came back and then left again, he was tired, with dark shadows lining his eyes and high cheekbones; there was something off about the way he held himself as well, she realised later, when she was tucked safely in bed with Nee-chan curled around her.

* * *

For almost a year he watches her with her trying mostly unsuccessfully to find him where he hides in the numerous shadows that line the street; it becomes something of a game for them and he finds himself smiling and laughing more in the times they are alone than he has in the last three years. It was raining when he first noticed just how attached he was to the small, bright light of a girl; she was out playing with a few of the other children that lived in the area and he was prodding a fire that he had started in the relative safety of one of the abandoned warehouses. Some of the older children, the youngest a year younger than he was, had settled about the flickering flames; he didn't know most of them, just the handful of teenage runaways that had all but adopted him into their mishmash of a family. The others had been laughing, just him and Shinji and Hiyori and Lisa sitting quietly around the hole in the wall that once house a door with their backs to the warmth of the fire, when it had happened; there was a sharp popping sound, his ears pricking up intently as the echoes passed him by, he stood quickly, Lisa and Hiyori following him as he strode outside without question while Shinji scampered further back into their sanctuary. He had recognised the sound, knew it as well as he did the beating of his own heart; the girls corralled the kids and got them inside without much fuss. He watched them, waiting long enough to see them all safely inside, before slipping away into the shadows as easily as he ever did. He could smell the sharp, familiar, liquid-copper tang of blood before he could see the body; a man lay splayed out upon the wet, cracked pavement. He breathed out a curse as he recognised the man, he may have only seen him a handful of times and never up close, but he had always been good at identifying people.

There was a moment of blinding pain as he leapt back into the shadows, he could feel the sticky dampness spreading across his left shoulder blade; the killer was a barely discernible shadow in the empty mouth of the building three alleys down. For a moment he stayed perfectly still, ears and eyes trained on the black shadow pointing a gun in his direction; the shadow was keeping just as still until a loud, brash voice called out from further in the warehouse.

"The fuck, Mashiba?" It took a moment for him to place the voice as that of Abarai Renji, leader of a small-time Yakuza group operating out of Inuzuri, one of the worst slums this side of, well, _anywhere_; he fought back the snarl rising from his chest at remembered nights skulking around the streets in search of a safe place to sleep and finding only bloodied Yakuza riding high on some drug-or-other. In a, mostly futile, attempt to divert his attention from previous meetings with Abarai's gang, he turned his mind to the name the elder teen had called. He could remember hearing of a Mashiba Takumura signing up with the local Yakuza, the only reason the information had stuck with him was the fact that nobody seemed to know whether Mashiba was his family or given name; he'd spent enough time eavesdropping on conversations to just not give a damn.

Mashiba shifted slightly, gun still raised but no longer focussed on the shadow he hid within. "Some kid poking about the body out there, Boss; figured it'd be best to scare him off before he found out too much."

In the silence that ensured he slipped seamlessly through the shadows in the direction of the warehouse the Yakuza were hidden in; pausing every other building to re-focus his senses onto the soft scuffing of feet and whisper of voices, he made his way to a point just to the left of where Mashiba stood. At this distance he could easily note the stress lines around Mashiba's lips and eyes; and they must have been stress lines, the guy wasn't that much older than Lisa's seventeen.

Abarai was just visible behind Mashiba's bulk, peering out in the direction of the corpse at the end of the street with his dark eyes, a strange mix of wine and blood and chocolate; for a long few minutes he and the two Yakuza held their positions, he waiting for them to either move enough for him to slip passed them or for the proverbial other shoe to drop, and them trying to find the 'kid skulking around a dead body'.

As it turned out, one of Abarai's thugs stumbled out of the building and jarred his wounded shoulder; he was barely able to supress the pained yelp he could feel building within his chest. Not that it really mattered as three Yakuza turned on him with loaded guns. He froze immediately, limbs still and loose at his sides; Abarai is looking at him like he's some sort of alien and his two thugs look somewhere between incredulous and stunned stupid. They stay that way for a long time, then Abarai's gaze shifts, just slightly, to a point over his shoulder; that is the only warning he has before pain explodes over the back of his skull and darkness starts to slowly swim over his eyes. His last thought isn't fear for his life or sorrow about those he is leaving behind; it is, oddly, confusion about how somebody as young and hopeless as Abarai got to be the leader of even a small time Yakuza gang.

* * *

Renji watches as the kid slumps to the ground, Rikichi is still holding the muzzle of the gun he just rammed into the kids head. "Put that down, Rikichi." He orders gruffly, slipping his own weapon back into the waistband of his slightly ratty jeans. He is only vaguely aware of his underling doing as he is told, his gaze fixed on the small body lying in a crumpled heap on the cracked sidewalk; and the kid is small, smaller than even some of the street rats he used to run with back when he was the age this kid probably is now. The most notable thing about the kid, Renji thinks as he leans down to check Rikichi hasn't accidentally killed the little waif of a boy, is his hair; even if it is a bit washed out and faded from living off the streets for Kami-only-knows-_how_-long, each strand is still bright and vibrant and almost seems to glow in the light of the sun reflecting off of the rain collecting against it. Renji is, just slightly, relieved when he finds the kid's pulse, steady and strong against his fingertips; he can't quite hide the relieved sigh that slips passed his lips, but neither Rikichi nor Mashiba comment.

There is a distant, quiet whisper of feet against the steel of a warehouse rooftop and Renji turns towards the sound; a blond kid is perched precariously at the edge of the roof opposite their building. He looks outrageously comfortable sitting there, Renji thinks absently as he stands with the unconscious kid in his arms; the blond tenses up on his perch and Renji gives a soft hum of understanding. The blond is worried for the kid in Renji's arms; for all that the kid is practically his prisoner now and he's fairly certain the kid _let_ Rikichi knock him out cold, he finds that somehow, undeniably, cute. "Just who are you, kid?" He murmurs to the small body in his arms as he strides back into the building he and his people are currently occupying; he doesn't expect to receive an answer, not from the kid in his arms and most certainly not from the street behind him.

"He's none o' yer fuckin' business, Yakuza." The voice from the street startles him, though he doesn't show it; his underlings aren't as calm about the kid behind them. Renji is surprised when he turns around that it isn't the blond from the rooftop that spoke; it is, instead, a boy the same age, and height, and built, and wearing the same clothes as the waif still in Renji's arms. The new boy is paler than the waif, though, and his hair is as white as fresh snow; and for all that they could be the same person if one or the other altered his colouration, this boy in front of him has a wilder look about him.

Keeping as calm as he can in the face of a wild looking waif of a boy with teeth bared in an unmistakable show of aggression; and he is more terrifying than his friends will think when he explains the encounter later that very day, Renji carefully takes a step forwards. "And you are?"

He receives only a snarl in response and the waif of a boy is suddenly gone from his arms; a quick glance to the building across from him and the street in front of him confirm that the blond and the white haired waif are gone as well. He resolves to restrain the kid with iron chains connected to at least one of his men if he ever catches him again; and makes an effort to remember to never leave the blond sitting on a rooftop if he can see him. But those are thoughts for another, dryer, day; now he has to figure out what he's going to tell Haruhi when she turns up to see him about the body.

* * *

He comes to in the warmth of the fire light with Shinji's familiar form sitting in front of him and the blonds long arms wrapped loosely about his shoulders; someone is poking at his back lightly with cold metal. He might be able to tell who it is if he concentrated hard enough, but he is still in pain from being shot and then knocked unconscious; there is a soft ting from his back, whoever it is poking at the wound having found the bullet, and then the pain flares to unimaginable heights. It takes Shinji several minutes to coax his mouth open, teeth all but spearing his lower lip, to pour some watery soup down his throat; from the slightly hazy film settling over his eyes somebody had managed to steal some heavy duty painkillers.

For a moment he considers fighting the slowly growing darkness, then he makes out the familiar form of the little girl both his and not; she is off to one side, clutching to Hiyori's side with one hand and his bloodied scarf clenched tightly in the other. He really doesn't want to be conscious when her mother comes to collect her tonight, so he closes his eyes and lets the illegally acquired meds do their job.

* * *

She really wishes Ka-chan would come for her soon, knows that she won't be there for another hour at least; today has turned from great with a side of rain to terrible with a side of bloodstains. Shinji-san had been missing when Hiyori-chan and Lisa-chan had ushered them inside, and they'd all been quiet until the blond boy had stumbled back inside with him cradled carefully in his pale arms; the first thing she had noticed about her friend was the blood soaking his scarf and shirt. She had screamed and cried, and Hiyori-chan had needed to restrain her so that the large boy, whose name she didn't know, could clean and bind the wounds.

She hadn't been able to see him for a while, Shinji-san's wiry build blocking her view as the blond propped her friend at the angle the large boy needed. When Shinji-san had finally sat back after slipping some of the watery soup Lisa-chan had made and she was too nervous to eat, she had started crying again; her friends softly tanned skin was covered in a pale net of scars, some thick and fresh and others so faint that only the shadows created by the flickering fire are visible. There are three that she can't seem to shake, one along his stomach, stretching from his lowest rib on the left to just above his right hip, the second running up over his right shoulder, cutting smoothly across his collarbone, and the last is large and circular and lays prominently beside the edge of a gothic styled tattoo of a howling wolf over his rib cage; she wonders, between fresh bouts of tears and wailing sobs only slightly muffled by Hiyori-chan's shirt as the older girl attempts to comfort her, what her friend has been through to put those scars upon his skin.

* * *

The rain is pounding heavily against the warehouse roof when Haruhi finally strides in, her pace confident and even as she makes a beeline for Renji. She is a beautiful woman, Renji's mind notes idly, about his age with long flowing black hair that lay loose about her shoulders, her pale lilac eyes are soft in the dull light of the campfire; Renji knows, however, that she is also a very dangerous individual, she may not have the fighting skills of he and his men, this didn't mean she was any less deadly. He had heard of Haruhi and her people bringing entire empires to their knees in a matter of days before; Haruhi might not fight, or deal weapons, or even _look_ remotely dangerous, she was all the more deadly because of it. Haruhi, and by extension the rest of her people, dealt with information.

"Well?" Haruhi's familiar, brisk voice asked as she stopped before him; her pale hands tucked into the folds of her dark coat.

With a gusty sigh Renji pushed off of the crumbling wall he was lent against. "He's dead, jus' like ya wanted; we left the body right where he fell." He added the last with a twitch of his head to indicate the side door of the warehouse, the one that lead out into the street. "Ya wanna take a look at him?"

The woman tilts her head faintly to one side, clearly considering the pros and cons of following him out to examine the body; it is several long minutes until she nods faintly and uses a shoulder to indicate he lead the way. He did, barely glancing at his men in a very clear order to remain put. His stride is light and casual as he heads towards the decaying metal portal.

As the pair stride out into the rain, Renji shifting the collar of his old sweatshirt to better accommodate his relatively new scarf and Haruhi tugging the hood of her thick, coat-jacket over her long hair, his dark eyes flick absently across the buildings opposite. Their walk down the cracked pavement is silent save the soft clicking of their shoes and the harsh pounding of the rain; Haruhi pauses briefly as the body comes into sight, and Renji takes the moment to observe the area more closely. Off to the side of the body is a small patch of still damp blood, a trail of dry, starting to crust now, blood leads over to the dark shadows beside the large, dilapidated warehouse; the patch of vivid crimson against the wall earns a faint frown from the Yakuza boss.

"Where did that blood come from, Abarai?" Haruhi questioned, pulling a small silver phone from her pocket and snapping a half dozen photos of the surrounding area, being very careful to never get a clean shot of the body.

With a sigh the red-headed gangster gestures at the stains beginning to form against the wall. "Mashiba caught some kid sniffing about the body, said he was trying ta scare him off; guess he must've hit the kid."

Her face morphed into a displeased frown, the expression marring her pretty features. "Any idea what this 'kid' looked like?"

"Err…" Renji glanced about nervously, gaze flittering over darkened alleys and half hidden rooftops as though he were searching for eavesdroppers.

"Abarai…"

At Haruhi's irritated sigh, the woman easily calling his bluff, the Yakuza turned his attention back to the go-between. "Yeah, I managed to get a good look at the kid when he near-on got the drop on me and Mashiba; kids about yay high," He started, gesturing about midway between his hips and ribs, "orange hair, sort of dusty an' pale, sort of tanned skin, darker than you but lighter than me, probably about fourteen. There was a blond kid with him, he might o' been a bit older an' a bit taller but I didn't get a very good look at him; and there was an albino, looked identical to the first kid asides from his colouring, with a wild look about his eyes. That enough for pretty boy?"

There was a twitch to Haruhi's eyebrow, the sort of twitch that very clearly said 'You do _not_ go about calling the _Chief of Police_ a _Pretty boy_!' but was easily ignored by men like Abarai Renji. "Yes, Kuchiki-Taicho should be sending someone to clean up the mess your men have made of this area in the next few days; with any luck, your Mashiba won't have scared this 'kid' and his friends off; at least one of them might know something about the business our corpse committed in nearby areas."

"Right, because no-one else could tell you anything so you got to rely on the creepy trio o' teens." Renji grumbled, turning with Haruhi to return to his warehouse.

Neither of them noticed the darkly furred wolf hidden in the shadowed alcove beside the blood splatter from earlier that day, luminous blue eyes trailing their darkening silhouettes before it shifted, twisting on its hind legs to trot down the dark alleys; disappearing in a black cloud of wispy smoke as its shoulder brushed against a torn leg of a pair of old jeans.

"Interesting." A slightly warbling voice commented as a pale hand was raised to remove a lit cigarette from equally pale lips, a puff of smoke filleted out into the darkening street. "So, Abarai's in league with Kuchiki? That outta interest King."


	2. Cat and Mouse upon the Streets of Despai

**Many thanks to _Tango Dancer_, _Informant_'s first reviewer! Enjoy folks.**

* * *

**Informant  
Chapter 2 – Cat and Mouse upon the Streets of Despair**

* * *

He awoke with the first rays of light from the sun, sliding defiantly through slender cracks in the metal sheets that made up the back wall of the building Shinji and his group had claimed as their own. For several minutes he merely laid there, eyes closed and breathing relaxed, listening to the many bodies around him; he could hear the familiar soft snort of Hiyori's exhales from beside the massive form of Hachi, and some ways off the alert breaths of Shinji and Lisa.

It was the distant sound of claws, sharp and untamed, against the road outside that finally convinced him to move, carefully slipping through any gaps in the tangled mess of bodies that he could find, heading towards the front door; Shinji and Lisa turned slightly to throw him irritated glances as he came to a stop between the two, a place that could very easily be attacked. He saw the gold of the luminous eyes a fraction of a minute before the pale fur was caught by a ray of golden sunlight; a small smirk tilted his lips upwards as Shinji's eyes widened slightly and Lisa half stumbled back a step. The white furred wolf snorted softly as it trotted up to his side, long strands of coarse hair brushing gently against his lightly tanned skin. He ignored the stunned forms of his two friends as the white wolf dissolved into obsidian smoke that coiled up into his skin.

"…Ichigo?" Shinji questioned as a frown slipped into place over the younger boys features.

Gold-Brown eyes shifted from their contemplative gaze into the steadily lightening world outside, a soft hum passing through pale lips.

"What the _Hells_ going on with ya, Ichigo?" The blond hissed quietly, an angry glare burning into the shorter street rat.

With a heavy sigh a hand tracked its way through the mess of slightly matted orange hair. "You do _not_ want to know Shinji, believe me on that much at least." Ichigo murmured ignoring the furious glower the elder blond directed his way. "If you really want to know," he threw back over his shoulder casually as he tugged a fresh shirt over his head and marched confidently out into the street, "I'll be back in about a month. Ask again then."

The blond teen's furious spluttering drifted through the air for several moments before Shinji managed to get himself under control enough to yell after him. "I'll hold ya to that, Kurosaki!"

"Of that," Kurosaki Ichigo murmured to himself, voice stolen away by a sudden gusting of the gentle breeze as he turned into the mouth of an empty alley, "I have absolutely no doubt, Hirako Shinji."

* * *

The sun hung high in the sky as four darkly furred paws paused in the casual trot of a particularly large black dogs winding path along the crowded streets of Junrinan, the vast shopping district separating Seireitei, the political and governmental sector, and the Rukongai, the slums; just visible through the thick haze of fog to the northern edge of Junrinan lay the distant silhouettes of skyscrapers reaching proudly towards the sky. Panting lightly, the dog tilted its head to and fro, deep blue luminous irises committing each figure to memory as the hulking canine wound its way to the edge of the dirt road. With its hindquarters resting against the stone of a large store house, the dog lay itself down with its head resting upon its fore-paws.

Some hours later, the dog lifted its head as a figure caught its undivided attention; tall and casually dressed with long black hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of their head was a woman with her left arm tied up in a sling. Hauling itself to its massive paws the dog stretched languidly, blue eyes never losing sight of the woman; shifting into the shadows of a vendors stall, the strong scent of incense and perfume filling the air and drifting to the dog's dark nose, the canine waited. Not five minutes later the woman was stood before the stall, casually examining the various bottles and long sticks, occasionally asking a question of the vendor. Twenty minutes later the tall woman wound her way back into the pedestrian traffic with a paper bag in hand and the black dog tailing her from the shadows.

The woman's brisk pace led her and the dog onto a wide side street where a simple carriage stood waiting, a large man waiting on the driver's bench. Shuffling her purchases absently between her sling and chest to free her good arm long enough to open the carriage door, the woman turned to speak with her driver, neither so much as glancing at the large dog as it loped up and leapt easily into the open carriage; the woman climbing in a matter of moments later with her package held somewhat awkwardly, a tanned hand reaching passed her to close the door.

"I could have managed just fine on my own, Zangetsu-san." The woman murmured quietly as she took a seat opposite the one already claimed by the black haired figure.

A cocky smirk tilted the shadowed figures pale lips even as the soft sound of hoof beats against the hard packed dirt of Junrinan's roads filled the air. "I never insinuated otherwise, Shiba Kukaku-sama." A silken, male voice declared softly as deep blue irises peered out of the natural shadows of the carriage. "Tell me about Kukchiki's connection to Abarai Renji, I'm sure you of all people know about him."

A sigh left Shiba Kukaku as she set her acquisitions on the leather cushioned bench beside her. "There isn't much I can tell you about it," she started with an absent glance at her shadowed companion before turning her gaze to the small pane of glass set into the door, half obscured by a dark, swaying curtain. "Byakuya's been keeping his methods quiet for a good long while, and everything I _do _know is second hand information from Yoruichi; if it were anyone other than you asking me about this I'd be surprised." A barely visible eyebrow rose in irritation. "About four years ago, around the time of that explosion that wiped out over half of Fugai and melted most of the southern edge of Sabitsura, Byakuya and some of his men got caught in an underground laboratory."

"The one run by Masamune Keichiru? Just out of Hokutan?" Zangetsu's voice drifted from his corner, sounding slightly startled.

With a feint nod of confirmation Kukaku continued. "That's the one, the bastard killed a dozen good men and women before Abarai's gang barged in, looking to collect whatever debt the messed up bastard owed them; the way I hear it, Abarai's been passing information through an old friend of his, Haruhi I think her name was, ever since."

The carriage was silent for several seconds before the man breathed a soft curse.

"You know her?" Kukaku asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing full well that she wouldn't get an answer out of her companion. "Hey! What are you doing?" She hissed sharply as the man rose smoothly to his feet, effortlessly drawing the hood of his jacket over his dark hair as he did so.

"Thank you for your time, Shiba-sama; I will be taking my leave now. You will receive the usual message when next I wish to speak with you." His tall figure paused briefly at the door to give an infinitesimal bow to the woman before promptly opening the lacquered wood portal and stepping out. The door had closed again by the time Kukaku rose to her feet; she barely managed to catch a glimpse of black fur disappearing into the rising dust from the passing carriage wheels before it was gone.

With a heavy sigh, the young woman dropped back into her seat. "He could have at least let me know how little Michi-chan's doing, the reckless brat." She whispered softly to the empty air of her carriage. "Take us strait home, Koganehiko! Our passengers already left!" She yelled over the wind and rhythmic beating of hooves.

"Hai, Kukaku-sama!"

* * *

The sun had just started to dip below the distant horizon as Ichigo's heavily shadowed form stepped onto the dirt streets of Junrinan; his hands rested in the pockets of his new jeans, the hem of his graphic tee pushed back by the casual stance, his wrists covered by the light weight denim jacket he had left unfastened. His orange hair, having brightened slightly after a brief rest at an onsen, dulled to a pale brown by the brief shower he had walked through five miles back, when he was passing through the small strip of tamed Hueco Mundo between Junrinan and the mess of Rukongai. Over the past three weeks the teenager had been making himself as visible as possible, hoping to catch Kukchiki's attention via whoever he had stuck watching Rukongai security footage; and it was making him antsy, every instinct he had was honed with the Inuzuri slums, a place where drawing any form of attention to oneself was generally disastrous for one's health, firmly in mind.

The familiar dark furred form of Zangetsu sidled up to his side, his course black and brown fur brushing against his side with casual confidence in a familiar soothing gesture; if he was going for comfort, the fact that his form didn't immediately dissolve when he had been gone for almost the length of time it had taken for Ichigo to walk the distance between Inuzuri and Junrinan was doing the exact opposite. The gentle stream of information from earlier in the day at least gave him something to think about instead of how open to attack he was.

Twenty minutes later, as he was examining the stall of a whittler with a penchant for charms, he felt the eyes on him; idly running the fingers of his left hand through the thick fur across Zangetsu's shoulders dissuaded his canine companion from seeking out his watcher. "I'll take a wolf pendant." He informed the old man seated behind his stall.

"In honour of your friend?" The man queried in return, lifting the glass cover protecting his wares from thieves.

Flicking his gaze up to the man's hawk-like eyes, Ichigo reached a hand out to gently lift a dark wooden figure of a wolf in mid-lope. "…You could tell?"

The old carpenter chuckled lightly as he re-sealed his display with careless movements. "I have lived for a long time, my young friend; in those many years I have had the privilege of seeing all manner of beings."

Ichigo lifted his shoulders in a smooth motion that he hoped came off as casual. "I suppose I should thank you for not drawing attention to him; it's for a friend, to wish her well, and remind her she always has a safe place with me. Ja ne, Oyaji." He gave the old carpenter a shallow bow as he dropped a small pile of coins into the withered and calloused palm.

"Live well, child." He returned with a subtle incline of his head.

Tucking the small pendant into a hidden inside pocket, Ichigo slipped casually into the evening crowds, one hand knotted in Zangetsu's coarse fur and the other within reach of the dagger hidden by his three-sizes-to-large jacket. He would give his watcher credit, Ichigo decided with a slight tilt of his lips, it had taken his ever-observant gaze most of the main street he was walking down to find the man.

Lightly trailing the hand previously knotted in his companion's fur down the midnight stripe of fur over Zangetsu's spine, a light mental nudge had the wolf on his way to delay the tail Kuchiki had sent. Ichigo ducked out of the throngs on the opposite side of the street and several stalls further down, barely sparring a glance over his shoulder at the commotion his friend was causing as he leapt at the well-dressed officer, who, points for professionalism, was still attempting to track Ichigo's progress, with all the exuberance of a puppy; if the man hadn't been sent to track Ichigo's movements the teen might have pitied him, as it was he merely grinned to himself as he disappeared effortlessly into the shadows.

It would be interesting to see what the man would do after he managed to extricate himself from the bundle of protective energy that was Tensa Zangetsu.

* * *

Mori Ichinose cursed violently as he finally shoved the large, slender, darkly coloured dog from his person, a sharp glance about the area showed that his target hadn't reappeared back on the main street after ducking into one of the Junrinan back alleys that would lead to the outer wall of Seireitei if one didn't turn at any point along the three mile long gap between store houses. "Damnable mutt." He hissed angrily, turning his head to glower at the dog now sitting calmly beside him; luminous sapphire coloured eyes studying the officers form with sharp intensity that had _absolutely no_ _place_ in an animal's eyes. "I suppose the kids expecting you to follow me and telling you to go home won't do anything to help me?"

The large head tilted to the side and a rough pink tongue lolled from between jet black lips, as if in mocking agreement. Ichinose rumbled a myriad of curses and began the trek to where he had last seen the short teenager; he did his best to ignore the lithe black dog tailing him sedately. It took several minutes questioning/interrogating/pleading with the stall owner to get confirmation of which alley the boy had turned down, the old woman manning the sweets stall barely managed to stutter out that the boy hadn't seemed to have turned for some ways in.

Grumbling a brief word of thanks, Ichinose started down the alley at a light jog, his unwanted companion trotting along at his side. Twenty meters into the alley, at the first intersection created by the storehouses, he stilled; finely honed senses were screaming the presence of another at him, whispering warnings in his ear, and shaking his bones with their intensity.

Silence drifted over the area, completely drowning out the sounds of vendors hawking their wares on the main street behind him; the complete stillness was broken by the faint, echoing sound of applause. "You have a good memory, Keibu-san, and _very_ sharp instincts."

At the voice, Ichinose drew his standard issue gun from its holster at his lower back; dark eyes darting through the thick shadows in search of the source of the apparently disembodied voice. The dog that had followed him huffed and strode off into the all-encompassing shadows.

"Relax, I don't intend to do anything to you; all I want you to do is take a message back to Kuchiki Byakuya-Taicho. Tell him if he wants to speak to me, he can find me himself; he should be able to find me on the edge of Hueco Mundo, just passed the wall to the east, tomorrow at this time. I wish you a good evening, Keibu-san."

And without so much as a whisper of fabric, Ichinose was alone. "Kuchiki-Taicho is not going to like this." He muttered to himself as he re-holstered his gun and drew his phone instead.

* * *

"So," Kuchiki Byakuya, head of Division Six, started menacingly; dark grey eyes pinning Mori Ichinose in place where the young agent stood before the police captain's desk. "You not only managed to lose your target, which, potentially, holds information imperative to an ongoing investigation, but you were foiled by a…_dog_?"

Mori swallowed harshly, brown eyes barely managing to remain focussed on his superior; Byakuya was silently impressed by his nerves. "That is correct, Kuchiki-Taicho."

"In that case," The Kuchiki heir sighed, leaning back in his seat with a resigned air about his regal form. "You are to remain on this case. Don't look so surprised, Mori-san; there are very few men capable of admitting to something as embarrassing as having an animal interrupt their investigation."

Mori hemmed for a moment, as Byakuya muttered under his breath, "And even fewer who could have gotten anywhere near that close to this one if it's who I think it is."

"Sir?" Mori asked several minutes later when his superior seemed to have forgotten his presence; grey eyes flicked over to the detective. "Your orders? Regarding his request to meet in Hueco Mundo?"

"Forget you ever heard it."

Mori blinked in obvious surprise. "…Sir?"

Byakuya sighed softly to himself, tilting his head to gaze out at the early morning sky. "What he told you was meant for no ears bar my own, if any of my division where to hear of it I would be unable to locate him, and, in turn, lose whatever information he may be willing to pass on to the authorities; it is imperative that I gain that information, whether it has any bearing on this case or not... Just keep this to yourself, Mori-san." He added gently.

Mori was dismissed after his agreeing salute, leaving Byakuya to his empty office.

"…What will you do if it does turn out to be _him_?" A gentle, lilting voice murmured from the dark corner.

"If it is him…" Byakuya whispered to his steepled fingers. "…I suppose there will be very little that I _can_ do; he is far too important to risk revealing to Central, much like Abarai and Haruhi."

Silence descended on the office once more, the Kukchiki's hidden guest disappearing as silently as they had arrived. Byakuya heaved an exhausted sigh as he rose from his desk chair under sharp protest from muscles long gone stiff; he would have a long walk that evening and was still behind on sleep from last week's string of cases.

* * *

The sun had just begun to sink towards the city skyline as Byakuya stepped from his carriage, his driver giving him a short salute before steering the team of four black stallions back towards the city's residential area. The Kuchiki heir tugged the hood of his cloak over his dark hair as he began the long trek over the heated pavement, and further still over the constantly shifting dunes of the untameable dessert.

It was well and truly night by the time Byakuya found the figure that had summoned him; small and lithe, dressed in the torn-knee jeans and graphic tee covered by a grey cloak, hood drawn high over his head, as he had at the first sighting of him just south of the edge of Rukongai several weeks previous. "You're here." The boy said, not sounding at all pleased by the fact. "Good. For what reason did you have Abarai kill that man in Kusajishi? And why do you still want information on him?"

Byakuya would, reluctantly, give the boy credit for his professionalism; he was very careful to keep his contempt for Byakuya and the situation in general well hidden. "The man Abarai's man killed was actively working to bring descent to Seireitei; since his death, I have received intelligence to indicate that his wife shares his plans to bring a revolt directly to our gates."

Heavily shadowed, though no less piercing, golden-amber eyes stared at Byakuya for several long minutes; assessing, the noble identified absently.

"What are your plans for the wife, should you acquire proof of her intentions?" The boy voiced mistrustfully.

Byakuya recognised the question for what it really was almost at once; the boy was testing him, seeking to know what he was like as a man as well as an Officer of the Law. "I would be forced to bring her in to receive the trial she, as a citizen of this country, is entitled to; if she were to be found guilty of treason, she would be sentenced forthwith to the Maggots Nest. Rather unfortunately leaving her two children as good as orphaned."

The two cloaked figures were still for a time, a frigid wind blew across the pale sands below them, and the boy sighed heavily. "I do not wish to aid in the orphaning of children as young as little Kaoru, especially as the information I hold in regards to the parents pertains also to the elder child."

"I understand this is very difficult for you." Byakuya stated softly, idly adjusting his hood in the face of a sudden intense blast of night air across the desert plains. "I came fully prepared to leave again without gaining anything from you; I merely came to satiate my curiosity."

"About my identity," The boy huffed out a sound that could have been amused or deprecating. "Because you recognised something in me you haven't seen for a very long time; something that has only been found in two others to date. I can tell you now that at least half of your suspicions are accurate, if rather misguided." A sigh slipped into the cold air, trailing a soft cloud of tiny vapours as it swept passed pale lips, "To business, then, Kuchiki Byakuya?"

Byakuya nodded regally in response, "To business." He agreed.


End file.
